Cars Crazy
by Twilit Violet
Summary: Just a bunch of random short stories I've written about Cars. Go ahead, take a peek! You know you want to... Rated T to be safe. Individual stories may have different ratings.
1. Jackasselope

_A/N: I've decided to start posting the random Cars drabbles I have been writing for different people (with their permission, of course). Some of these stories are gifts, some are trades, some I owe, and some are by request (if I am in a generous mood). The way I write a drabble is this: I take 2-3 characters (preferably canon) and 3 random words. I then incorporate all of that into a single short story of 100-1,000 words. _

_Please R&R and be warned, some drabbles contain higher ratings than others. All are welcome to submit a drabble request, although I make no guarantees that I will write anything. To request a drabble, simply send a review listing 2-3 Cars characters plus 3 random words. I will notify you ASAP if I accept your request. _

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**Drabble for Amethyst  
Characters: Luigi & Guido  
3 random words: internet, afro, rabbit  
Rating: T for adult content**

**"Jackasselope"**

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Luigi and Guido exchanged curious looks as they passed the laughing crowd at Flo's.

"Hey Guido!" said Lightning. "Nice video on Youtube!"

Guido blinked and turned to Luigi. "Che cosa?"

The Fiat blushed and drove quickly to his tire shop.

Later that night while Guido was surfing the Internet for Ferrari porn, he was shocked to stumble upon a video of himself in his red, white and green afro, hopping around like a rabbit and flashing the camera.

Luigi, who was asleep in the next room, sang like an opera star when Guido crammed a tire iron up his tailpipe.

**THE END**

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_A/N: Yeah, I know this one was super short. In fact, it's exactly 100 words. Some of the other drabbles I have are much longer and (hopefully) more entertaining. Please stay tuned!  
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	2. Rain, Raine

_A/N: Okay, this one's for a friend who likes to write mpreg and slash. In her stories, Doc and Sheriff are a couple, and Raine (her OC, a pale blue Mustang) is the result of Sheriff getting Doc pregnant. Don't like, don't read. Criticism for this pairing or for Raine's origin will NOT be tolerated. If you have anything negative to say, let it be about the quality of my writing ONLY. _

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**Drabble for DoubleEdgeSword  
Characters: Doc, Sheriff, Raine (OC)  
3 random words: tiny, blanket, lullaby  
Rating: K**

**"Rain, Raine"**

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It was a dark and stormy night. Wind howled at the windows and rattled the panes. Rain mixed with hail beat at them as well, like a deranged beast desperate to break into the homely little garage behind Doc Hudson's mechanical clinic. Two cars were parked inside, a '49 Mercury and a '51 Hudson Hornet. They lay together on a thin mattress, so close that their sides were touching. Sheriff's curb feelers tickled Doc's side.

The cruiser's gentle snores were drowned out by the sounds of the storm, a fact for which Doc was grateful. He'd offered to tune his lover's engine to fix his snoring problem, but of course Sheriff had insisted that he didn't have a problem with it.

"Of course YOU don't have a problem with it, because you're always asleep when you snore!" Doc had retorted. This had naturally led to some quarreling, after which Sheriff finally relented. Now that he had agreed to the tune-up, it was only a matter of getting the procrastinating squad car into the clinic.

Such raging storms as the current one kept most residents of Radiator Springs up all night, but not Doc. He loved rain and everything that came with it. And, of course, he loved Raine. In her own corner of the garage, a tiny, light blue Mustang lay sound asleep in her cradle, oblivious to the storm. Unable to sleep, Doc turned the TV on and turned it to The Weather Channel to check the forecast for the area.

A deafening clap of thunder shook the walls of the garage and the power went out. Raine started wailing and Sheriff jolted awake, shouting something that sounded like "Come out with your tires up!" as he scanned the room with his searchlight. Doc chuckled.

"Relax, Sheriff. It's just thunder."

Sheriff blushed and turned his light off. "Y'know, we're behind closed doors," he said with a smirk, "so please, feel free to call me by my first name."

Doc smirked back. "Sure thing… Sheriff."

Raine continued to cry. The old Hornet rolled over to the cradle and lifted the tiny car out of it. "She's not wet. Or hungry," he murmured. "Storm must have frightened her." Doc drove back to the bed he shared with Sheriff, hugging the baby close to his chest. He set her down between them. She kept crying as both men tried to soothe her.

"How about a lullaby?" Sheriff asked, then tried to think of one he actually knew all the words to. Doc was usually the one to sing to Raine, but he wanted to give it a go for once. Rubbing the child's roof with his tire, he started to sing. "Rain, rain, go away, come again another day."

As though she actually understood the lyrics, poor little Raine cried even harder. "Great choice, Sheriff," Doc said wryly. "How about this one: It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring…"

Sheriff quirked his grille in a smirk. "Touché."

Doc stood up suddenly and drove away. "Be right back," was all he said, before disappearing behind a stack of boxes. Sheriff could hear him rummaging through one of them. He returned a minute later with a baby blanket. And a very old one, at that. It had once been sky blue with a bright red car in the middle, but time and constant use had caused it to fade. Now it was a very light blue, similar to Raine, with a pink car on it.

Doc picked up the weeping baby and gently wrapped her in the blanket, then laid her back down on the bed between himself and Sheriff, who looked on with one brow raised curiously. Doc smiled as Raine calmed down.

"This was my first blanket," he whispered to her. "And now it's yours, Raindrop." He chuckled softly as she yawned, then gave her a kiss on the hood. Raine cooed happily and before they knew it, all three cars were fast asleep. The storm raged on.

**THE END**

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_A/N: Before submitting a review for this drabble, kindly reread the above A/N and be respectful, please. Thank you. _


	3. Third Wheel

**Drabble for CrystalGems****  
Characters: Lightning, Sally, Mater****  
3 random words: night, tractor, stars  
Rating: K**

**"Third Wheel"**

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It was a perfect spring evening. A mild breeze, perfumed with pine and honeysuckle, drifted down from the mountains of Cadillac Range and ruffled the grass in the field. A thin sliver of moon hung low in the sky, overshadowed by the abundance of stars. The silhouettes of tractors stood as still as statues in the dewy grass.

A lone truck pulled over to the side of the road and slipped through a narrow opening in the fence surrounding the field. Sally, locked in a tender kiss with Lightning, heard him coming long before his single functioning headlight pierced through the grass. As the truck drew closer to the couple, he took a deep breath and held it, ready to blare his horn.

"Evening, Mater," said Sally as the tow truck loomed up behind her beau. Lightning spun around to face him.

"Evenin', you two!" Mater replied with an innocent grin. "Shore is a romantic night, ain't it?" He settled between them and turned a dreamy gaze skyward.

"Sure was," Lightning grumbled, giving him an annoyed sideways glance.

Sally smirked. "You didn't come out here to tip tractors by any chance, did you?" she asked.

Mater shook his cab. "Nope! Jist out fer an evening' stroll, Mizz Sally. Ah'll jist leave ya two alone tuh git better acquainted." With a wink and a grin, Mater drove off, disappearing into a nearby orchard. Lightning wasted no time picking up where he'd left off, nuzzling Sally's cheek. Sally chuckled and the two resumed making out.

Minutes of unsettling silence ticked by. Both cars began to flash occasional worried glances toward the orchard as they kissed. Suddenly, the ground started to rumble beneath their tires. From beyond the trees came the sound of an enormous engine revving, followed by a mighty roar. Lightning and Sally both watched as Mater came speeding toward them with Frank on his tail.

All three vehicles made a screaming beeline for the opening in the fence, the combine's sharp blades a humming silver blur at their back bumpers.

"I thought you said you weren't tipping any tractors!" Lightning shouted as he accelerated.

"Ah didn't say nuthin' 'bout not tippin' Frank!" Mater shouted back.

**THE END**


	4. Love and War

_A/N: I am not a narrow-minded homophobe, so I do not believe that this drabble needs any rating higher than G. However, I feel compelled to post this dumb-ass slash warning ONLY because this sort of thing isn't everyone's cup of tea. Love is love. Men love their sons, women love their sisters, and two unrelated male vehicles loving each other is no different, and NOTHING can convince me otherwise. That said, please read and review! ^_^  
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**Drabble for deamoness333  
Characters: Sarge, Fillmore  
3 random words: romance, date, fluff  
Rating: G (slash)**

**"Love and War"**

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Sarge squinted his eyes against the glare of the late afternoon sun on his dusty windshield. His engine was overheating, so he popped his hood open a crack. A thin wisp of steam escaped and fluttered like a ghostly ribbon in the wind. The stifling summer air did little to cool the Jeep. Clods of caked-in dirt were wedged between every single tread on his tires, even on the spare affixed to his backside. There wasn't an inch on his entire boxy frame that was free of dirt.

It had been hell out there on that obstacle course, and all Sarge could be thankful for was the fact that at least he'd been alone. He would surely have had engine failure if any of his brawny young SUV recruits had seen him out there today, nearly collapsing from exhaustion before he could mount the first hill. Finally entering the town limits, Sarge turned a corner and headed toward his hut. In the middle of the street he braked, right in front of Fillmore's dome.

On first glance, it didn't look as though his neighbor was home, but Sarge knew better. When that lazy hippie wasn't shooting the breeze over at Flo's, he was usually home getting stoned. Sarge drove up to his door, intent on helping himself to a quart or three of Fillmore's organic fuel. As much as he publicly detested it, he had to admit the stuff had incredible soothing properties.

"Fillmore?" called the Jeep as he poked his front end over the threshold. He winced as the beaded strands clinked and clattered against his frame. No matter how many times he passed through that door, he could never get used to it. The dim living room was less hazy than usual. The faint scent of patchouli incense made Sarge snort. He hated patchouli with a passion. For once he would have preferred the odor of hemp smoke, but to his surprise he didn't smell any questionable substances burning.

A long, greenish shape emerged from the gloom. "Heyyyy," Fillmore greeted him. Sarge looked him over with a smirk.

"You're sober," he remarked. It was as much a statement as it was a question. He raised a brow. "What's the occasion?"

Fillmore's bumper curved upward in a mischievous grin. "Nothiiinnnng…"

"Uh-huh. Listen, I just got back from the course and I was hoping you'd be here so I can have a little -"

"Hahah, sorry dude," interrupted the bus. "Can't help ya right now. I've gotta get ready for my date tonight."

Sarge blinked. "Date?"

Fillmore nodded. "S'right."

"And what exactly do you mean by 'date'?"

"You know… a little chance at romance, gettin' groovy with that special someone, rockin' the kasbah… that sorta thing."

Sarge's frown deepened. "Right." He turned to go, grumbling obscenely under his breath.

Fillmore raised a brow. "Since when did you give a fluff about that?"

"I don't!" snapped the Jeep. "Have fun with your date!" And just like that he was gone, kicking up gravel in his wake as he sped off toward his hut.

It was completely dark outside by the time Sarge had washed away the last of the stubborn dirt from his frame and gone back inside to dry off. He turned on the TV and settled down on the threadbare olive green carpet in front of it, watching the news. They hadn't even gotten to the local weather yet when a soft knock sounded at his front door. With an irritated sigh he hauled himself to his tires and went to answer it.

Fillmore stood outside, smiling serenely in the circle of yellow light made by the porch light. In front of him stood two cans of his finest organic fuel, with a ragged-looking bouquet of poppies, lupines, mustard and dandelions from his own unkempt yard. Sarge smirked at him.

"Wassamatter, did you get stood up by your date?" He added an extra sour note to the word 'date.'

Fillmore blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Uhhh, no. 'Least I don't think so." He rolled closer. "Didja want to break our date?"

This time Sarge blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

At this, Fillmore's smile returned tenfold. He chuckled. "What, you didn't think I was goin' on a date with someone ELSE, did you?"

Sarge looked down at the bus's offerings again. His hood tinged pink. "Uh, well…"

Fillmore decided to spare him the embarrassment by leaning forward and capturing his lips in a soft but passionate kiss. Sarge's eyes widened and he glanced about nervously before returning the kiss with a warm purr of his engine. Without another word, he ushered his neighbor into the hut. As soon as Fillmore was inside, Sarge picked up the two fuel cans to bring them in. The bouquet, which had been lying on top of one of the cans, fell to the ground.

Sarge was about to close the door when he noticed the flowers. His bumper curled at the sight of them. He turned away and hit the switch. The garage door was halfway down when a large, heavily-treaded tire slipped beneath it and pulled the bouquet inside.

**THE END**

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_If you were at all offended by this drabble, I make absolutely NO apologies. It's not my fault you didn't read the warning or that you are a hate-filled homophobe. If, for any other reason, you did not enjoy this drabble, then I am sorry, and I hope you enjoy the next one. ^_^_


	5. Racing Hearts

**Drabble for JustKaro43****  
Characters: Doc, Sally  
3 random words: thoughtful, twisted, glimmering  
Rating: K**

**"Racing Hearts"**

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"I don't like it." Sally sighed wearily as she gazed across the endless desert at something only she could see. "I try to be happy for him, I really do, but sometimes… sometimes I just wish he'd quit racing once and for all and settle down." She turned a guilty look on Doc. "Do I sound selfish when I say that?"

Doc shook his hood. "Not at all. In fact, I agree with you, Sally. All Hotrod ever does these days is obsess over his racing career." He turned to stare to off into the distance, like Sally had done a moment before. "I was a lot like him when I was his age. Then one day, I finally wised up."

The Porsche raised a curious brow. "Oh? How did that happen?"

"I crashed." Doc shot her an amused sideways glance, his bumper twisted in a smirk. "Got some sense knocked into me, literally." He continued to gaze out at the desert, a thoughtful look in his deep blue eyes as he watched a tumbleweed roll lazily across the sand. Sally's face fell. She'd hoped he would have some pearls of wisdom for her, or perhaps a surefire cure for her boyfriend's fast-lane attitude, but no.

With another, even wearier sigh, she too turned to stare off into the distance. Far, far away heat rose up from the earth, a glimmering ghost lake on the horizon. And just like a mirage, something else appeared. A tiny red speck that grew and grew and grew, as Lightning McQueen himself came racing toward her.

Sally gasped and threw herself into reverse, but Lightning's reflexes proved quicker. He executed a sharp turn at the last millisecond, mere inches short of colliding with the Porsche. Spinning out of control, he crashed into a nearby cactus patch.

Sally and Doc looked on as the racecar painstakingly extracted himself from the network of needles, silent but smirking as they watched. "Have a nice trip, Stickers?" Sally teased once he was free. She drove up to him and yanked a needle from his tire.

"Yea-OWCH! I think that's enough practice for one day," Lightning murmured, defeated. Sally said no more, but continued to pick the needles off his frame. He looked at her curiously. "You were watching me the whole time?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I always watch you when you practice. You know that."

"Well then… how come you hardly ever watch me when I race for real?" Sally didn't answer. As she drove around him to check his sides, Lightning spun around to face her. "Well?"

Sally stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "I'm a lot more interested in what you do OFF the tracks than on. You know that too."

Lightning smiled back. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she chose that moment to rip a needle from his bumper. "OW! Thanks."

"Anytime."

Silence fell between the two cars. "So where is it?" Lightning asked after a while.

Sally frowned. "Where is what?"

"The I-told-you-so. Didn't you tell me earlier that if I didn't slow down I was gonna crash and burn one of these days?"

"So you can actually hear me over that engine of yours?" Sally laughed. "Tell me, what else have you heard?"

Lightning grinned. "Well - I heard you and Doc talking about me a few minutes ago."

Sally snorted. "No you didn't!"

"But you were, weren't you? You didn't deny it!"

Sally blushed and looked at Doc. The old Hornet merely chuckled in response. Lightning reached a tire out and brushed it against his girlfriend's. "Wanna go for a drive?" he asked her with a seductive edge in his voice. "We'll go someplace nice and secluded… and then maybe you can repeat all the stuff you said about me to Doc."

Sally's smile turned into a smirk. "I thought you said you could hear us."

Lightning chuckled and moved closer to her. "Well yeah, but I didn't hear everything." He leaned in, and Sally was sure he was going to kiss her this time. Instead he gave her a playful nudge and dashed away, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Sally laughed and sped off after him. Doc watched with a smile as the two lovers disappeared in the distance.

**THE END**


	6. White Horse

**Drabble for WhiteStar the Undecided  
Characters: Sarge, Fillmore, Maggie (OC)  
3 random words: rose, thirteen, moon  
Rating: K+**

**"White Horse"**

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_"Say you're sorry, that face of an angel comes out, just when you need it to… As I pace back and forth all this time, 'cause I honestly believed in you…"_ Sarge paused, his antique mower poised above the new spring grass. She was singing again. At first he couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, but now that the rusted old blades had ceased their humming, he could hear her better. His antenna twitched. She was close by.

Sarge followed the breezy sound of the young woman's voice to where the grasses grew thick beneath the oak trees a little distance from his backyard. Knowing how acute her hearing was, he killed his engine and stood stock still at the fence.

"_Holdin' on, the days drag on. Stupid girl, I should've known, I should've known…" _Just above a cluster of green grass dotted with blue lupines, a mop of dirty blond hair was visible. A half moon hung transparently in the late afternoon sky above the golden mountains of Tailfin Pass. Maggie inclined her heard toward it, almost as if she could see the lovely sight. She continued to sing.

_"That I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale, I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell. This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town, I was a dreamer before you went and let me down. Now it's too late for you and your white horse to come around." _Sarge closed his eyes, his bumper curving into a gentle smile as he listened. Had she any idea how often he stood nearby, hidden by default of her blindness, drinking in her melodious songs? If she didn't know, there was someone else who did…

As the song ended, Sarge opened his eyes and sighed dreamily. He looked every bit the part of a lovesick teenage girl, surrounded by springtime loveliness. A different shade of green and other bright colors in the corner of his eye made him turn to his right to see Fillmore. The bus stood just a few feet away, in his own yard, gazing serenely at the human girl. Then he turned to the Jeep with a knowing grin. Sarge wasted no time glaring daggers back at him before returning to his lawnmower.

The sun was setting by the time Sarge finished his yard work. The moon had grown brighter as the sky had dimmed, and evening cast its soft blue shadow over the town. Tired and parched, Sarge put his gardening tools away and headed over to Flo's, fully expecting to see Maggie and Fillmore there like every other evening when the town gathered together at the end of the day. Sure enough, there was that damned hippie, Dodge love him, but no sign of Maggie. Sarge looked around, puzzled.

Fillmore noticed his apparent concern and smiled lazily. "'Choo lookin' for?" he drawled.

"Nothing," Sarge answered, settling beside him uneasily. It wasn't like Maggie to not be there. Several minutes passed. None of the other residents seemed to notice the girl's absence, either. This unnerved Sarge even more. Soft lyrics began to drift toward him on the April breeze. His antenna went rigid as he strained to listen.

"_That I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale, I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell. This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town, I was a dreamer before you went and let me down. Now it's too late for you and your white horse to come around." _Sarge rolled out of the lot and took off down the street, following the sound. He soon found her. Exactly where he had found her the first time, in a small clearing beneath the trees just big enough for a Jeep and a human to fit in side by side.

The tall grass had been tamped down and woven here and there to form a cozy nest. Maggie was sitting propped up against the trunk of an oak tree with a bouquet of wildflowers in her lap. Sarge watched as she plucked the petals from a poppy one by one, then took the last silken petal and rubbed it against her cheek. Something churned deep in his engine; an inexplicable longing to be that poppy petal, to feel her cheek pressed against his.

"Maggie…" the name escaped his throat in a whisper, before he even realized he had said it. The girl turned her face toward him and smiled.

"'Bout time you got here," she teased. "I've been waiting for you all day." She straightened up and patted the grass beside her, inviting him into her secret paradise. Sarge grinned and parked beside her. "Isn't the moon beautiful tonight?" she asked as she leaned against him. Sarge blushed.

"Er, yes it is, but… I thought you couldn't see it?"

"I can't," she confirmed. "That's why I was asking you."

Sarge's blush deepened. "Oh, right."

Maggie stood up, bracing herself against the Jeep, and moved until she stood directly in front of him, blocking his view of the moon. "I picked you some flowers," she said, holding up the bouquet. She started humming the tune to the song she'd been singing as she carefully laid the flowers out, one by one, on Sarge's hood. Blue lupines, orange poppies, and a sprig or two of yellow mustard.

"There you are," she said at last. "A nice, even dozen. I know how you like to be precise about things." She poked a finger at his windshield teasingly. "Oops! Almost forgot…" she said suddenly, reaching back and pulling something from behind her ear. It was a bright pink desert rose, a rare flower in those parts, despite its name. Maggie set it in the center of Sarge's hood with a flourish.

"Baker's dozen," she added with a giggle. Sarge normally didn't care much for flowers, but as he looked down at the thirteen blossoms splayed across his hood, he couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, you've had your fun," he grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to sound stern. "Why don't you hop up on my hood and we'll go for a drive?"

"Okey doke," Maggie replied, scooping up the flowers before perching herself there. As they headed down the road, Maggie began humming that song again. Sarge was so relaxed by her humming that he ran right over a pothole without looking first. Maggie was jolted and nearly slid off his hood.

"Some white horse you turned out to be!" she teased, smacking him playfully on his canvas top before she settled down. Pulling a length of ribbon from her hair, she set about tying the bouquet to his antenna.

Sarge chuckled. "Well then don't distract me next time. And get those damn things off my antenna before somebody sees!"

"Too late!" Fillmore shouted as he drove past Sarge going in the opposite direction.

**THE END**

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_*Lyrics from the song "White horse" by Taylor Swift. Maggie belongs to WhiteStar the Undecided and is used with permission._


	7. Birthday Boy

**Drabble for WhiteStar the Undecided  
Characters: Flo, Ramone, Red  
3 random words: cut, gone, spread  
Rating: K+**

**"Birthday Boy"**

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Everyone in Radiator Springs knew Red to be shy. That was just the way he was. And everyone knew that most people tended to be shy on their birthdays. Put two and two together and it was all but impossible to get Red to come out of his garage on one particular day of the year.

Ramone stood in front of the garage door, straining on his hydraulics to get a look through the high windows. After a while he lowered himself with a sigh of resignation.

"S'no good, babe. He ain't comin' out," he said to Flo, who stood beside him. "Looks like we're gonna hafta smoke 'im out."

Nearby, Lightning, Sally, Doc and Mater each wondered how they could lure Red from his hiding place.

"You know, that might actually work," Lightning spoke up. Flo, Ramone and the others turned to look at him questioningly.

"What, smokin' him out?" Ramone asked.

"Sure. Well, not literally, of course," Lightning added hastily upon catching the warning look on Doc's face. "We just yell 'fire!' and he's bound to come out. He is the fire chief, after all."

"Not to mention the whole dang department too," Ramone commented. "But that sounds like a plan, man. I say we go for it!" The low-rider turned back to the garage door and opened his mouth to yell, when Lightning stopped him.

"No wait! We gotta get someone else to do it. Red'll know it's just you trying to get him to come out." He turned to the blue Porsche parked beside him. "Sally, Red trusts you, right? If you yelled 'fire!' he'd come out for sure."

Sally backed away looking indignant. "No way, Stickers! I'm not pulling a stunt like that!"

"Wull Ah'll do it!" Mater volunteered.

"Nobody is yelling 'fire!' and that's that," Doc said sternly. "Not only is it dangerous, it's also a felony when there isn't an actual fire."

Lightning's smile faded. "Oh. Right."

Mater scratched his cab with his tow hook, looking thoughtful. "Wull then, why don't we jist go start ourselves a fire? Then it won't be illegal, right?"

"Wrong," Doc answered. "That would be arson."

While the guys all looked glum, Sally rolled her eyes. Flo had gone back home. Doc sighed.

"Look, if you can manage a way to lure Red out without committing a crime - or without committing a felony, anyway - then be my guests. I'll overlook a misdemeanor if any of you are successful."

"C'mon, man!" Ramone yelled through the garage door. "Why you gotta be so difficult? All we're gonna do is rough ya up a little. That's what birthdays are for! S'only one day a year! Now git your big bumper out here and take your birthday spanking like a man, ya big red wuss!"

"Yeah, ya big red wuss!" Mater echoed gleefully. "Hey Doc, is name-callin' a felony?"

"No, but it does constitute harassment, and that is one misdemeanor I'm not going to allow. Poor Red's embarrassed enough; he doesn't need his feelings hurt on top of it."

"Yeah well, how does he think we feel?" Ramone grumbled sulkily, then suddenly began pounding hard on the garage door. "¡Venga afuera y sea un hombre, usted mentecato mudo grande, o irá ahí adentro y golpeará la mierda fuera de usted!" * he shouted.

Mater blinked at him. "Didjoo jist tell Red tuh drink a gallon o' green paint an' then go 'n' whip Lizzie with his hose?"

Before Ramone could work out a response to such a ridiculous question, Flo reappeared pushing a metal catering tray on wheels. On top of the tray sat a large and beautifully decorated multi-layered cake. Surrounding this were various treats, including jello, Rice Crispy squares, a fresh fruit platter, and a punch bowl. Quite an impressive spread.

Everyone stood back as Flo rolled forward and knocked gently on the garage door.

"Red, honey, it's Flo. Won't you come out for just a minute? I baked you a cake," she spoke as tenderly as a mother crooning to an infant. "It's your favorite: strawberry with vanilla frosting. Come on, sweetie. Have some with me."

There was a pause, then the sound of movement within the garage made everyone hold their breath. Slowly, the door began to rise, revealing a timid yet curious-looking Red. Glancing around cautiously, he inched his way out into the sunshine. No one dared speak for fear of startling him back into the garage. Flo smiled up at him.

"Happy birthday, sugar," she said. "Now blow out the candles and make a wish!"

Seeing that the shy fire truck had finally emerged, the other residents of Radiator Springs came forward to wish him a happy birthday. Red blushed redder (if that was possible) at all the attention he was getting. As much as he would have liked to retreat back into the garage, he stayed put for Flo.

Looking down at the beautiful cake she had made for him, he took a deep breath and blew. The candles flickered, but not a single one went out. He tried again, harder this time. No luck. Ramone snickered. Flo glared at him, but said nothing. She should have known he'd use trick candles.

"C'mon, man," Ramone teased, positioning himself on the opposite side of the cake from Red. "Don't give up now. Show us what you got!"

Red huffed and puffed, but to no avail. All his attempts merely succeeded in snuffing out two or three candles at best. The poor fire truck was growing increasingly worried. Before anyone could stop him, he hoisted his hose up and fired a stream of frigid water at the top of the cake. All of the candles were doused instantly.

The noise that followed was almost deafening. Cheers and laughter erupted from the entire town. The candles were out, yes, but so was the entire top of the cake. The force of the high-pressure stream had torn it off and flung it into Ramone's face. Even Red was laughing at the sight. The Impala turned on his windshield wipers to clear away the frosting that obscured his vision. He looked at Flo with a smirk.

"Whatever you do, DON'T ask him to cut the cake."

**THE END**

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_*I used an online English-to-Spanish translator for this, which we all know isn't very accurate. The English phrase I had entered was "Come outside and be a man, you big dumb wimp, or I'll go in there and beat the crap out of you!" _


	8. Sharing Victory

**Drabble for Forever-Art-Fan  
Characters: Lightning, Strip & Lynda****  
Words: grassy, indebted, evening  
Rating: K**

**"Sharing Victory"**

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Lightning turned left into the long, dusty driveway leading up to the Weathers estate. The house was smaller than he had expected for a celebrity of The King's stature, but somehow that seemed to suit the older gentleman. Little more than a bungalow, the façade of the house was white with slightly-darker-than-Dinoco-blue trim. Quaint and welcoming, the house seemed almost to smile at the young racecar approaching it. Lightning smiled back, his admiration for The King deepening.

The rays of the late afternoon sun were a brilliant gold as they stretched from beyond the Tennessee hills to illuminate the many different colors of gladiolus and jessamine adorning the front yard. The King himself was relaxing on the grassy lawn, settled low on his axles, his eyes closed. He looked a far sight better than he had the last time Lightning had seen him, which had been in the hospital right after his wreck in the Piston Cup race only two weeks before. There were a few small dents left here and there, but time would eventually work out what the mechanics could not.

Lightning pulled into the yard just as Mrs. Weathers came out of the house with two tall glasses of what appeared to be iced tea, complete with lemon wedges, balanced on her hood.

"Why hello, Lightning!" she greeted him, causing her husband to open his eyes and look from her to the young racecar. His smile mirrored hers as he greeted him too.

"What brings you all the way out here?" he asked, offering the tea Lynda had brought out to his guest. She gave the other one to her husband and went back inside to fetch more.

Lightning accepted it cordially and took a sip. "I thought I'd come see how The King is enjoying his retirement," he replied, looking around. "Not exactly what I'd call 'living it up,' but it certainly looks cozy."

Strip grinned and nodded. "We've got a vacation home up in Montana, and compared to that, this IS living it up."

Lightning chuckled. Lynda returned a moment later with a large platter on her hood containing an iced tea for herself, a fresh-from-the-oven pecan pie, and three plates.

"Here, Mrs. The King, let me help with that," Lightning said as he eased the heavy platter off her hood and onto a small patio table nearby. "That pie smells great. Did you make it yourself?"

"She sure did," Strip answered proudly, leaning over to peck his wife on the fender. "No one makes pecan pies quite like her. I keep telling her she ought to go into business with them, at least open a local bakery or something, but I guess she's too humble for that, aren't ya, honey?"

Lynda smiled shyly. "I really don't see what all the fuss is about. It's just a pie. And besides, seeing you enjoy my cooking is all I want."

The couple exchanged a loving gaze that made Lightning smile.

"Would you like some pie?" Lynda asked him as she cut into it. "You don't mind if Lightning has a slice, do you, hun?"

Strip shook his hood. "I insist on it."

"Well, that's really nice of you," Lightning replied, "but I just had dinner not too long ago, so I'm still kind of full."

"I insist on it," Strip repeated, passing him the first slice. "There's always room for Lynda Weathers' famous pecan pie."

Lightning took a tentative nibble. After that first taste, it was all he could do to try to restrain himself from wolfing it down like a ravenous combine. "It's delicious!" he exclaimed through a thick mouthful. Strip and Lynda chuckled.

"Told ya," Strip said with a grin, enjoying his own slice at a considerably slower rate.

The first shades of a dusty blue evening began to descend on the valley. Soon there was only a single slice of pie left. All three cars shot occasional glances at it while they talked as though wondering which of them would be the lucky one to eat it. Lightning, who had already eaten dinner AND more pie than anyone else, found himself glancing at the remaining slice more often than both of his hosts combined. Strip noticed this with a passive smile.

"Ya know, Lightnin', I'm indebted to you," he said, causing the young racecar to tear his gaze away from the pie and fix it on him. Strip's smile widened. "You pulled me out of a rough spot, and you sacrificed a lot doin' it."

Lightning blushed and scuffed a tire in the grass. "I just gave a fellow racecar a little push, is all. Nothing amazing about that."

Strip sighed. "Well, whether you think so or not, you did me a huge favor, and I owe you one for that."

Lightning shook his hood. "No, Mr. The King. If anything, I owe you. If it hadn't been for you –"

"You don't owe me a thing, son," Strip overrode him, his expression solemn for a moment before the smile returned. "I owe YOU, and the least I can do is let you have the last slice of pie."

Lightning blinked. "Are – are you sure? I mean, I think I've already had more than my share. I kinda feel bad enough taking advantage of your hospitality here, especially when I can't help feeling indebted to you already."

Strip and Lynda exchanged a curious look, then chuckled.

"Well, if that's really how you feel," Strip said, "then how would YOU like to make it up to ME by having the last slice? Lynda always makes such big pies, I can never finish them. I'd be much obliged if you'd help me out here. Then maybe we can finally call it even, instead of sittin' here arguing all night about who's indebted to who."

Lightning thought for a moment, then returned The King's grin. "Now that's one tie I DON'T mind holding with you!" he said, and the three cars shared a hearty laugh.

**THE END**


End file.
